


Generous

by SaydriaWolfe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, My Porn found plot, No Beta, Porn, Rule 63, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaydriaWolfe/pseuds/SaydriaWolfe
Summary: "Firewhiskey, please. Two. No, three. You know what? Just give me the bottle."





	Generous

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all you bitches that encourage me to let my imagination run wild. <3 <3 <3

"Firewhiskey, please. Two. No, three. You know what? Just give me the bottle."

Percy Weasley raises a single eyebrow as the slumped form of Harry Potter, still dressed in what must be date clothes, glares at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. He knows why he's here on today of all days but he'd heard from Fred and George that everything was perfect in the world of Potter. She and her man of choice were to finalize their betrothal and set a date for the wedding this very evening.

He watches with no little awe but thundering confusion fit to match the storm outside as Harry Potter pours herself a shot and then promptly takes a long swig directly from the bottle.

When she sets it down with a thunk, the entire bar is watching. Thile silence is deep enough to cut as the Witch Who Slayed takes a deep breath and coughs just a tiny bit but keeps her whiskey down. She takes a deep breath like she's preparing for a dive and attaches her lips to the bottle again, drinking what has to be at least two -but likely three or four- shots in one go.

Someone needs to stop her or she's going to kill herself.

He silently evaluates the other patrons of the bar. They are all watching her in either silence, horror, or awe. Some, all three. None of them are familiar enough to approach the notoriously prickly young witch.

Percy gathers his honestly rather tattered Gryffindor courage alongside his Penny's beloved Elven Vodka and moves to the bar. Maybe Harry hasn't spoken to any Weasleys outside of the Twins since the Triwizard-Ron debacle but she's still what most of them consider family and he owes it to her for saving not just his precious baby sister but his patriarch and  _ both _ of his twin brothers as well during the war.

"What are you in for?" He asks, trying valiantly for casual as he takes the stool on her immediate right.

She turns those Avada-green eyes on him with a glare fit to melt goblin wrought steel. As she silently,  _ furiously _ , evaluates him, he can't help but watch her perfectly manicured little hand swipe roughly at the corner of her burning red lips.

He remembers himself in time to catch the mocking raise of a single ebony eyebrow. She smirks with a large portion of self-directed fury in her eyes and tosses a scroll on the bar.

Wordlessly, Percy unrolls it and begins to read. Its a marriage contract, no doubt goblin written but still fairly standard for a young noble. It specifies the code of conduct required for the spouse of a Peer, that she'll keep her father's title and manage it herself, that her husband may keep his own or take her name but that she and their children  _ won't _ be taking his, a decent number-range for children, a truly generous spousal allowance that will even be paid directly to her husband's private vault and beyond her purview.

"Would you sign that?" She almost-croaks, her voice roughened by the whiskey.

"It's incredibly generous," He says by way of answer and she snorts.

"According to Cormac it’s incredibly insulting." She rolls her eyes. "The idea that I would keep what's rightfully mine almost as much as wanting children of my own."

"What?" He asks, so, so confused.

"Yeah, didn't know I was dating a blood purist." She laughs and it's painful, like glass shards shoved in his ears. "Guess he had me fooled." She looks at him directly again, her hand absently fiddling in a  _ very _ distracting gesture with the neck of her bottle. "What are  _ you  _ in for?"

"Anniversary," He tells her and he signals Tom for another Vodka. "Of my betrothed’s murder."

She winces. Penny's death was... hard. And needless. The look in her eyes says she blames herself. For what, he can't imagine, Voldemort was a  _ monster _ but in no way one of her making.

"Three years, right?" She asks, clasping his shoulder just like his family would. "Penny was amazing, our world is so much less without her."

He holds up his new drink and for the first time she picks up her shot. With smiles of naught but pain, they clink their glasses. 

"To love," She says.

"To love," He echoes and they drink.

Hours later they're all but entwined at the bar. Close enough, that it would likely be easier to share a single seat but she remains on her stool, planted firmly between his legs and leaning ever so gently against his chest. They're chatting like he never had with a woman before. Her mind is quicksilver and lightning. It stikes true and the flash is blinding but she gentles it with humor and unexpected kindness.

"We should probably go," She says sounding almost regretful as she looks around the empty bar.

"We should." He agrees.

"Tom no doubt needs some sleep," She continues, a small hand coming up to cup his cheek. "And the morning staff will be here soon."

"Yeah," He nods and wishes,  _ wishes _ he was brave enough to-

Like she's reading his mind, she leans in with intent. Her lips on his short out his  _ brain _ and he stares stupidly at her hair until she pulls back.

"I'm sorry." She says as soon as she pulls away. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I-"

He grabs the back of her neck and pulls her back in, silencing her with strategic use of his mouth. She gasps against him and he lets his tongue scout forward for just a  _ taste _ . 

The younger woman moans and goes pilant against him, he's never gotten so hard so fast  _ in his life _ .

Something is pressed hard into the hand he still has on the bar and she starts kissing his neck when he pulls back to look at it. A key. A  _ room _ key with a little wooden plaque on the ring carved with the number 7.

"Come on," He urges her up off her stool.

She huffs at him, put out until she notices the key in his right hand. He catches the edge of a pleased smile on her profile before she turns on him with a full power  _ come fuck me _ gaze in her blazing green eyes.

He swallows hard and guides her up the stairs. The entire way she shoots him teasing glances and tilts her head this way and that to display her unblemished neck until finally he has to stop her. She's two steps ahead of him, on the third floor landing when he turns her around and starts kissing her once again. 

She shudders and immediately wraps her arms around his neck, demanding and needy. 

He's never felt so powerful or so wanted. He surges and presses her into the wall, rubbing his cock against her stomach lewdly.

She groans and brings one leg up invitingly around his hip. He grinds into the heat of her and she throws her head back. Unwilling to wait any longer, he picks her up. She immediately wraps both of her long, slender legs around him and takes over grinding them together as he carries them down the hall.

"Oh, god!  _ Percy _ !"

He fumbles with the door. By the time they stumble through she has his shirt open and  _ bites _ the pectoral just above his nipple. He barely manages to keep his feet, just manages to fall with her onto the bed.

She groans again, clutching at him, "I want you in me."

He steps away just a step to strip and the little minx just pulls off her underwear, not bothering to remove either her blouse or her skirt, and spreads her legs in a lewd display. "Now, Percy," She demands. “I need you here.”

Not even interested in saying no, he kicks off his shoes, frees his cock, and crawls on the bed after her.

She wraps a hand around him and  _ squeezes _ and it's his turn to shudder and moan. "Are you going to give me this Percy?" She asks, almost taunting. "Are you going to give me what I want?"

She leans back from him just enough to watch as she runs the head of him up and down her slit.

She's warm and wet and he wants  _ in her _ so bad it's almost a pain.

"Well?" She gasps. "Are you?"

He lets her play. One more pass up and down her slit, but when she brings them back to her hole he bucks right in.

She gasps and arches and accepts him.

She's so tight. Not actually ready for him no matter how wet she is but when he moves to pull back she locks her legs around him.

"Stretch me with you cock," She orders. "Make it fit."

He deliberately collapses on her, making her take most of his weight. 

She moans and shudders and pulls his head in for a kiss. They duel that way, with tongues, lips, and teeth. Under the distraction he thrusts shallowly, inching his way in. Stretching her as ordered.

Once he's settled to the root, he pulls his hips as far back as he can and thrusts forward.

Harry cries out, her back arching, cumming on his cock.

He fucks her through it, his eyes fixed on hers. She stares back, eyes open and vulnerable, a hundred emotions written large on her face if he only knew how to read them.

Finally he can't take any more. 

He pulls back and starts fucking her in earnest. Her nails dig into his back and shoulders as she prays to the ceiling. "Please, yes, god," over and over again.

Just before he's about to cum he flicks her clit. Once, twice, she tightens around him once again. He's never cum so hard in his  _ life _ . He laughs a little as he rolls off of her and she grins before snuggling into his side and falling straight to sleep.

An hour later -or two, or maybe the next day, their room has no windows to tell the tale- he wakes up gripped with a most primal urge. He turns to Harry, loose and asleep on her stomach at his side and he moves her. She grumbles a bit as he folds her one of her legs below her but when he slips back into her still-messy hole that stops.

He fucks into her once and her hand flies blindly backward to his hip. Twice and she's pressing eagerly back into him. Thrice, she brings her second knee up to support them both as they move.

"God, Percy, give it to me."

And he does. Merlin, he does. He fucks her until he feels crazy with it, with the sloppy sounds of their bodies, with the bed banging against the wall. It's perfect. It's frantic. It's everything he needs and everything she wants and he never wants it to stop.

But stop it does when he gives in to his body's needs and releases again deep within her.

The next time he awakes, she's gone. He'd think it all a whiskey dream except for the most pleasant soreness of his shoulders and the satisfaction of his cock.

And, of course, the scroll on the bedside table.

-*-

"Mr. Undersecretary, the next order of business if you please." Lord Justice Crane, Chief Warlock commands.

Percy turns back to days agenda and almost winces, "The Wizengamot Conduct Committee, Lord Justice." That's bound to be long, dry and boring. The Conduct Committee usually is.

Lord Ogden leads Lord Malfoy and Lord Greengrass down to the table that appears on the main floor of the Wizengamot to accommodate them. But before he takes his seat on Ogden's right, Malfoy turns to the Chief Warlock. "I dissent with the actions this committee is has decided to take. Let the record show this decision was not unanimous."

Lord Crane nods and makes a note. "The record so shows."

Malfoy sits and Ogden stands. "The Conduct Committee calls Harriet, Duke of Gryffindor and Slytherin to come forward."

Percy barely manages not to bang his head on the table. It's Harry's  _ birthday _ . Her twentieth birthday, what in the world can't wait for another month?

Regardless, Harry stands, graceful in green and gold, and glides down to the floor. She takes the accused’s spot, standing before a podium in front of the committee's table and regards them with great aplomb.

"State your name, for the record," Malfoy prompts.

"Harriet Jasmine Potter-Black, Duke of Gryffindor, Duke of Slytherin, Heir of Blackfell."

"It has come to our attention that you have taken a three year leave from Puddlemere United." Ogen says leadingly.

"I have," Harry nods.

"Why have you taken a three year leave from Puddlemere United?" He presses.

Harry raises an eyebrow all but dripping a very Malfoy-like disdain. "I fail to see how my professional career is the concern of the Conduct Committee. Many Lords and Ladies do not have professional careers outside of  _ being _ a Lord or Lady, by doing so I am setting a positive example for my generation."

Greengrass, the officious little twat, shifts and clears his throat much like Umbridge used to. "It has come to our attention that you are taking a leave because you pregnant."

Percy just about stops breathing when Harry says, "Yes, and?"

"You are pregnant out of wedlock with no betrothal on the table. That is a violation of the Wizengamot Code of Conduct. It's illegal!"

Harry scoffs. "Being pregnant out of wedlock breaks no laws and violates no codes."

"It sets a bad example!"

"How? By being independant? We of the Wizengamot, as a united body, have spent the last two years making all citizens of the Realm equal and  _ free _ regardless of gender, sex, orientation or blood status. This is my choice, I have every right to it. Further it is the fruition of all our hard work."

"As I informed my fellow committee members," Lucius Malfoy all-but purrs. "When building a new world, we can not expect it to look like the old one. As long as her Grace survives the pregnancy and the child is accepted by her family magic as heir, it is no concern of ours. I am curious, however, have you learned the child's gender as yet?"

"A boy," Harry drops a hand to her abdomen, looking most pleased. "The Heir to at least one of my Duchies."

"Congratulations, your Grace." The Father of Ice smiles at her. Genuinely  _ smiles _ . In public.

"Thank you, Lord Malfoy."

"Yes, congratulations, congratulations," Ogden blusters, put out. "A son requires a male influence! An example! What kind of man will he be without an example? This is the rightful concern on the Committee. You need a husband."

"Why do I need a husband to set an example? My son will have my godfather, my godbrother, all of my honorary uncles -many of whom are wildly successful in their fields or lords of their own houses with great power and dignity. My son will lack for nothing."

"And the father? Will you be facing charge of Line Theft before this committee?"

"The father is of lower rank than I so any charge of Line Theft would be invalid." Is she pointedly no looking his way? Is he- Is  _ he _ the father? "And there is an offer on the table between myself and the father. He has simply not responded. I will respect his choice either way."

Harry is shortly dismissed by the committee with a request to keep them apprised and Percy- He doesn't quite know how he makes it through the rest of the meeting. It's all a blur up to and including his apparition from the Ministry to his flat.

He must of done because he is no longer at the Ministry but he can't remember it. His mind just keeps spinning uselessly. A son. Harry is having a son. 

His son? He wonders.

It's currently the end of July. She couldn't know the gender until around 16 to 20 weeks but she's not yet showing so she's probably closer to 16 than 20. They... had their encounter toward the end of March so it's possible. 

And he is of lesser rank, not being a Peer of any kind so that's a match too.

But she hasn't made him an offer. He would know if she made him an offer, wouldn't he? He's not a minor so it's not like his father would have to approve-

And then he remembers. 

The scroll.

She'd left him a  _ scroll _ after their laison but he'd never read it. He'd been afraid to but now he scrambles up, out of his chair, and into his bedroom.

There, on the bedside table where its been taunting him for four  _ months _ . The scroll is similar to the one he read for Harry before on that night but of snow white vellum, bound by a golden ribbon and the combined seal of Slytherin and Gryffindor pressed on the ribbon in gold painted black wax.

Barely daring to breathe, he slides the golden ribbon -honestly, a  _ ribbon _ of woven gold? What on  _ Earth- _ and unrolls the scroll. It's a near perfect duplicate of the previous scroll only in every place where it previously read ‘Cormac Dean McLaggen’ it now reads ‘Percival Brian Weasley’.

It's his child. Gods above and below,  _ Harry’s son _ is his child.

And Harry's been going it alone, thinking she was respecting his choices. Gods, he's a coward. Not even worth of his Sorting much less- Much less  _ this _ .

He needs to give her something.

Quickly he stands and rushes to his desk. He pulls a quill and with a few harsh lines, alters the contract.

The contract immediately disappears with a  _ pop  _ and in its stead he's clutching a small square of aged vellum inviting him to renewed contract negotiations the very next morning at the Bank.

The next morning he dresses in his finest dress robes and apparates to the Bank. He's escorted to the back by a small goblin wearing the shoulder knot of one of the ten Under Chieftains of the Horde. The room the creature leads him into already has several people, sitting or standing. All looking highly disproving.

Neville, Marquess of Longbottom. 

Sirius, Duke of Blackfell. 

Lucius, Earl of Malfoy Fen. 

Lucius's heir Draco with his heavily pregnant wife and Harry's Sworn Sister Hermione.

They are all on one side of the table, the 'Harry' side, while he sits alone. In silence. The most judgmental, oppressive of silences to exist  _ ever _ .

Until the chamber door opens again and High Chieftain Ragnok walks in. The smaller than human creature stands on a post to put him high enough to stand at the head of the table and lays down some paper.

"We are here to finalize negotiations on the Potter Betrothal." Ragnok tells them and unrolls the scroll. He reads in silence for several moments, turns incredulous eyes on Percy, and then gets back to his reading. "Mr. Weasley has made only a single alteration to the Betrothal Contract. It is what I can only deem a concession to her Grace." Ragnok informs Harry's side of the room. "In that he has altered the document to  _ specify _ that he -and their children- will in fact take her father’s name."

The High Chieftain turns to him. "You realize she is with child."

"He is my child."

Ragnok nods, looking almost pleased. "Representatives of Potter? What say you?"

"Her Grace could have certainly done better," Malfoy senior sniffs but it’s half-hearted at best. A token protest. "He'll do."

Percy has to swallow hard not to laugh.

"He's Harry's choice." Neville says simply, giving him a brusque nod.

Sirius glares and rather pointedly doesn't ask the questions Percy can  _ feel _ building in the most infamous of Blacks. Instead he nods and reaches for the bloodquill in the middle of the table. Ragnok snaps and the contract gleams as the changes are accepted and passes the contract to Sirius to sign first as the highest ranking and most closely related of Harry's representatives.

Percy takes a bloodquill for himself and signs when the contract is passed to him, not allowing the pain to make him hesitate.

"Now the date," Ragnok prompts. "When shall we schedule the wedding?"

' _ As soon as possible _ ' is the answer Percy wants to give but the question is directed to Harry's representatives.

"It's too late for Lugnasad," Hermione tells them. Which makes sense because that's  _ today _ . "Samhain has unfortunate associations for the Potter Family and she may be in labor come Yule so Mabon is the only choice."

"Narcissa will hate the deadline," Lucius laments. "But it is, as they say, doable." He raises a single aristocratic eyebrow at Percy.

Percy nods, trying not to seem.. well, he's not really sure what he's trying to seem other than not wrong or off-putting. "I can take a leave to help put it together."

"Merlin knows Harry's going to be useless with the whole thing." Sirius snorts, "So one of you should. Come on, let's go tell her the news before she paces a hole in my office."

Percy tries to stand and step forward with the sort of grace his future station requires. He bollocks it up, of course, but none of them are discourteous enough to laugh. Instead they take turns catching by the hand, starting with Malfoy and ending with Black as tell him the one thing he didn't know he needed to hear.

"Welcome to the family."


End file.
